<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Blacklight by syphrilfox</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23165437">Blacklight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/syphrilfox/pseuds/syphrilfox'>syphrilfox</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>I Wrote This For Me, But You Can Read It Too [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV, Final Fantasy XV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Boys Being Boys, frog hunting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:49:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,148</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23165437</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/syphrilfox/pseuds/syphrilfox</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Generally speaking, if it looks like a daemon and talks like a daemon, it's probably most definitely a daemon. Noctis is certain that person isn't a person anymore, but Ignis isn't so sure. It looked like a daemon, and howled like a daemon, but Ignis is very rarely wrong. Perhaps this daemon is not quite a daemon after all?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>I Wrote This For Me, But You Can Read It Too [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665190</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Blacklight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>massive shout out to dentedsky here on AO3 for beta'ing the chapter and catching all that dumb stuff my eyes are blind to! thanks a bunch my dude, i super appreciate it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was likely a fatal mistake, agreeing to Sania’s request for them to hunt for red frogs. It wasn’t a big deal, not really. Ignis had mentioned she was a well published biologist, and that her research was always causing a stir in science circles. And really, the thought of being a part of something so big, yet so insignificant was sort of exciting. There are no demands to be in Altissia as fast as possible, and no arranged marriage he felt somewhat forced to agree to, just to keep the peace. No one was watching him, breathing down his neck and watching for his every little flaw. Catching frogs is a mundane and strange activity, but a thrilling one nonetheless. Not to mention Sania was pushy with her request, basically demanding they catch her the red amphibians as soon as possible. And any other time of the day, Noctis was sure it wouldn’t have been an ordeal at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except it’s the middle of the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto had said that frogs seemed to make more noise at night, when everything was asleep and when predators weren’t actively hunting for them. The logic was sound. If he was a frog, he wouldn’t want to come out when there were more monsters and things actively hunting for him. As a human, the monsters with a taste for human flesh and blood were few and far between, and the numbers of those who hunt at night were even fewer. And the monsters who hunt at night and have a taste for human flesh that lived in the Duscae region? Save a ravenous Voretooth, there were no monsters to worry about. Tromping through the shallow water at a lake shore and searching the grasses should have been as safe as safe could be, especially considering their torches and the fact that all four of them were armed to the teeth thanks to the Armiger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If only daemons weren’t the kings of the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noctis stiffens at the sound of clanking metal, and judging by the way the sound of shoes crunching on gravel stop, Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio had all stiffened, too. None of them dared to breathe while an Iron Giant stomps passed in the distance, not until the daemon is well out of earshot. Prompto is the first to let out a breath, deep and ragged and shuddering with nerves. Noctis follows suit, though he liked to think his breath was way less fearful. Ignis and Gladio, each noticeable by their respectively light and heavy steps, begin to move again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Man, hunting at night sucks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto’s voice is soft and calm, but the slight waver in the timbre of his voice betrays his nerves. Noctis felt the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Daemons creep me out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The sooner we finish, the sooner we return to the Chocobo Post.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignis, illuminated by the light of his torch, passes him to stop beside a small pile of stones near the water’s edge. Noctis follows, and turns to push through the foxtails growing nearby. A frog croaks, but he can’t place where the sound comes from.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still spooky out here though,” Prompto says, his voice taking on a near petulant tone. “Who knows what kinda creepy crawlies are hiding out here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, the daemons’ll probably eat Noct first. You’re probably going to be their toothpick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of a swat against jeans and the half-hearted yelp draws his eyes for a split second before Noctis turns back to the foxtails. He catches a glimpse of red, but it disappears as he pushes the thick stems out of the way. It’s a snort that precedes his words while he sorts through the foxtails.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah right. They’ll eat you way before they eat me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noctis barely has the time to move before a big arm wraps lightly around his neck. Knuckles dig into his scalp a heartbeat later and he pushes at Gladio’s arm and hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got way more meat on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but I’m way tougher than you. You’d be a way easier meal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually,” Ignis starts, his voice cutting cleanly through their chatter and the quiet night air. “Judging by both of your body mass indexes and general physique, Gladio would make a far more tender and flavourful dinner. Compared to Prompto and Noctis, you’ve an equal balance of fat and muscle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Out of the three of you, Gladio is the only one I would consider a prime cut.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a brief moment, they’re all quiet, all eyes turned towards the splash of light coming from Ignis. Ignis doesn’t seem to notice, turning over large stones and checking where they once lay. Noctis breaks it, the smallest of smirks quirking the corners of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See? Specs agrees.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noctis feels only the smallest hint of regret when Gladio’s arm locks around him tighter and his knuckles dig a little harder into his scalp. He lets go eventually, but it’s not soon enough to spare his hair from being thoroughly mussed. Noctis shoves at Gladio with one hand while the other moves to straighten his hair and set it to rights. Gladio just chuckles and wanders away somewhere close by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get hunting, princess. The night’s wasting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes, Noctis starts pushing through the foxtails again in search of another flash of red. He doesn’t find one, but Prompto’s excited calls draws them to him. Prompto raises the frog above his head less like he’d caught a frog and more like he’d caught a hard thrown football. Noctis can’t begrudge him that, not when that frog pushes their count to four out of five. Ignis accepts the frog and deposits it into the plastic bucket Sania had given them with the other three they’d already caught. After wrangling the frogs to keep them in the bucket, they each split off again, spreading out to cover more ground, yet never daring to stray too far away. With daemons about, being caught alone would certainly leave them with more than a few bruises and scrapes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noctis, finding no success at the water’s edge, moves to join Prompto on the grass. When Noctis passes, Prompto raises a fist to him. He bumps his knuckles against Prompto’s with practiced ease before sinking to a crouch and peering underneath a bush. A mouse scurries away when the light of his torch strikes it. Nothing else moves. Noctis moves onto the next bush while Prompto peeks into a small hole in the rocks. Ignis and Gladio shuffle around on the sand and gravel of the water’s edges, stones hitting with a loud, grinding thump when they turn them over. Nothing jumps out at him when he peers beneath every single bush, and by the sounds of it, nothing jumps out at the others either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few more daemons lurk their way past them, most of them unaware of the four of them scouring the lake’s shores for frogs. The ones that take notice are lesser daemons, and all of them are quickly dealt with. When a Grenade finally floats past them out of earshot, they pick up the pace. Noctis isn’t sure how long their frog hunting lasts, or how long it’s been since they started, but when he catches sight of red skin speckled with darker crimson spots, relief bolts through him. The frog is tough to fish out from underneath the bush it took shelter in, but when it’s out and put away into the bucket with the others, Noctis can’t help but let out a sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignis seems to wonder just how long they’ve been hunting at the same time Noctis does. The man’s phone is out and in his hand in the blink of an eye, and the light of the phone shining onto his face seems to make the hollows of his eye sockets and the dips of his nose and cheek bones a lot sharper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two-thirty in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noctis sighs a tired breath in tandem with Prompto and Gladio. Four hours spent hunting frogs is definitely way too much time dedicated to hunting frogs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’d best return to the Chocobo Post. We’ve a long day ahead of us come morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s little fuss when they all turn back towards the dense woods. Noctis easily persuades Gladio to man the frog bucket and then they’re off, trekking away from the lake and towards the woods where the Chocobo Post sits. His feet hurt and his spine aches, and just from looking at the slouch in Gladio’s spine and the near constant yawning Prompto does, it’s obvious that the frog hunting has taken as much out of the others as it has him. Even Ignis’ steps are a little clumsier than usual. The difference is slight, but having known the man nearly all his life, the difference is noticeable. They’re all tired, and even though they’re heading back to the Chocobo Post, they’re at least a half hour’s walk out. The lake was a bit of a hike to begin with; no doubt the trail will be slower with a bucket of frogs in the middle of the night. Noctis can’t help the yawn that escapes him, nor can he help the soft, incoherent grumble that follows. If his retinue hears his grumbling, they say nothing about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hike back to the post is long and nerve wracking. Daemons continue to pass them by, and they continue to stay perfectly still when they do, not daring to do anything to draw their attention. Twice daemons attack them, but it’s still nothing more than lesser daemons. They’re more than easy to deal with, even with a bucket of frogs to protect. But the sounds of Iron Giants and Reapers and the rare Mindflayers remind them to keep quiet. Even if they could take them out if they had to, it doesn’t mean Noctis likes dealing with them. He doesn’t like dealing with any daemon, really, but he would much prefer dealing with the odd pack of Imps and stray Bombs and Grenades over taking down a crew of Iron Giants. Ignis would probably say something about the tact of picking their battles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, the daemons seem to thin out. Walking through the woods, where the cover of trees offer them a decent hiding place away from Iron Giants, the sounds of daemons slowly taper out. The grinding of bones, the hissing and crackling of sparks and hot rocks, the slither of slimy tentacles, and even the scuttling of small hands and feet all seemed to fade away the longer they walked. And hey, he’s certainly not complaining. Daemons were scary to begin with, but after the Marilith attack, Noctis can’t help feeling some kind of soul wavering fear for the beasts. Whatever has happened to the daemons, Noctis finds he doesn’t care. They can stay gone for all he cares.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though on guard and stepping quietly, Noctis nearly trips into Ignis when he stops suddenly. Gladio almost tramples Prompto when he stops beside Ignis. A complaint doesn’t have enough time to leave his lips when Ignis turns the intensity of his torch down to its lowest setting, and he motions for the rest of them to follow suit. Dread settles into Noctis’ stomach as he clicks his own torch down to a far dimmer setting. Only Prompto hesitates, but Gladio reaches forwards and turns his torch down, too, once his own has been dimmed. The four of them stand in silence, their only movements coming from their breathing and the flutter of eyes searching the scenery. Daemons must be passing by again, and Noctis can’t help the shudder that shoots up his spine. He hasn’t heard any daemons or monsters approach, but if Ignis is convinced, then something must be up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence surrounding them stretches as they stand and wait for whatever might be lurking nearby. When nothing happens for a dreadfully long time, Noctis speaks up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something is moving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignis’ voice, though as quiet as Noctis’ own, is clearly heard. In the corner of his eye, he can see Gladio turn his torso this way and that, no doubt searching for whatever Ignis saw. Prompto shuffles his weight between his feet, and Noctis does the same. He strains his ears and eyes, peering around Ignis and searching the trees around them for whatever Ignis saw. Silence continues to ring through the woods. No owls, no lesser daemons, not even a cricket. Whatever was here must have been dangerous enough to silence the whole forest, but that raised the question if whatever silenced the forest was dangerous to them as well. Still nothing moves. Even Ignis was turning his head this way and that, no doubt trying to pick out whatever it was that he saw again. When the silence and stillness stretches for an uncomfortably long time, Noctis whispers again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we should keep going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignis seems hesitant, the shake of his head slow and uncertain. Gladio, the heaviest walker of them all, takes a careful step towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Princess is right. We’d better get out of here before whatever you saw decides we’d make a good meal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a brief moment, Ignis seems to hesitate. Noctis shifts in time with Prompto, growing increasingly uneasy the longer they stay out. Finally Ignis nods and begins to move again, though he doesn’t turn his torch back up. Prompto falls into step behind him, walking almost as if he were a pup following its mother. Noctis takes place behind him, and Gladio falls in line at the back. Though Noctis can’t find it in himself to fault Prompto for following Ignis so closely. Even though they’re walking again, the uncertainty and uneasiness of the stillness persists. It’s enough to have him trailing Prompto closely as well. Safety in numbers, or so they say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though safety in numbers does him little good when whatever it was that Ignis saw hurtles towards them. It happens too fast for him to really track what happens. Prompto yelps a warning. His voice cracks. Big hands catch him by the back of his shirt and pull. He loses sight of Ignis and Prompto while Gladio drags him away. Something heavy hits the ground hard enough to throw dirt and grass everywhere. He hears Ignis call for him, and he calls back, ignoring the slight hitch of panic in his own voice. Gladio calls out directly after, and Prompto yells something. At the very least everyone is okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Gladio lets go of his shirt and he catches his balance, he doesn’t need to be told to summon his Engine Blade from the Armiger. Flashes of blue light tells him the others do the same, and in the dim light of their torches Noctis can just barely see the others as they move closer, Gladio flanking him while Ignis and Prompto move to stand by his side. A defensive move. He ignores the annoyed prickle in his stomach the move elicits for now and instead looks at what had crashed to the ground in front of him. There’s no point in keeping their torches dim now that whatever it was has obviously attacked them. All that would do for them is hinder their ability to see where they’re swinging their swords. One by one, circles of light splash the scenery in front of them. There’s a semi impressive crater where a lump of metal lies, the earth torn into a decent wound where spikes jut out of the lump. It’s a strange, deep blue that glitters somewhat in the intensity of the light of their torches. Azure and silver decorate the lump, but it isn’t any kind of design or pattern Noctis has seen before. Speckling the lump of metal is daemon blood and scourge, thick and reeking of death and blacker than tar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s only when the lump starts to move that Noctis realizes that it’s not actually a lump but instead a man. The stranger pushes himself up onto both of his forearms and coughs. There’s something sickeningly thick and wet about the sound. Concern lances through him as he watches the man paw at the horned helm he wears with artificial claws. Prompto takes a hesitant step towards the man, but very quickly steps back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever clasps that held the helm to the man’s head come undone and the helm is pulled off in one quick and practiced movement. Scales line the man’s sharp jaw and seem to grow in a large patch on the ridge of his brow and the bridge of his nose. Horns, ones Noctis previously thought to be a part of the helm, protrude outwards from the side of his head and curve to point forwards, tipped in silver metal with something akin to earrings hanging off the thinnest part near the head. Though the man coughs up a small mouthful of blood, it’s nearly undeniable that he’s contracted the scourge. If he wasn’t fully a daemon yet, then he soon would be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignis and Gladio heft their weapons to stand in a more aggressive stance, and Noctis follows suit. His body feels like it’s vibrating in anticipation at the sight, and Prompto looks to be as well if the shaking of his hands on his gun is any indication. Killing people still didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t care much for Niflhiem and its soldiers, sure, but their soldiers were still people, just like the Kingsglaive and Crownsguard were still people. Even though this man was obviously consumed by the Starscourge and about to turn very soon, he was still a man. He was still someone who had lived and breathed and had feelings. It’s a mercy to kill the man, especially considering they hadn’t the ability to take the man to Lunafreya for healing, but it still doesn’t sit well with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the man is finished coughing up blood, he looks up at them. His eyes seem to glow, and the reflective pupils blend in almost seamlessly with his white irises. With sclera blackened by scourge, it gives the man an incredibly eerie look, one Noctis doesn’t like one bit. There’s no aggression to the man’s posture, only confusion and uncertainty. Noctis still brandishes his weapon, as do the others. Better safe than sorry if the diseased man isn’t as docile as he seems.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto visibly flinches when the man whips his head around rather suddenly. Noctis thinks it looks like he’s heard something they can’t, but how can the man hear when he’s got ichor covered horns growing out of where his ears should be? Ignis immediately follows the man’s gaze, however. Soon enough, it isn’t hard to understand why they looked: though hard to hear over his heart beating in his chest, the sounds of scales sliding along leaf litter, grass, and roots is enough of an explanation. A Naga rears its massive head from behind some of the trees a few yards away, and its dull, blank eyes seem to settle on both them and the diseased man. He’s frozen for only a moment, staggered again by how uncomfortably similar the Naga is to the Marilith, but he shakes it off as quickly as he can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man shakes off his wounds rather quickly as well. He struggles a great deal, but the man quickly gets to his feet, leaning on a rather large and strikingly ornamental looking lance. For a brief moment, Noctis feels it’s strange that he hadn’t noticed the man’s lance before, but ultimately ignores it; it’s not important. What’s important is watching the diseased man lift the lance and charge the Naga. The Naga bolts towards him, and Noctis’ retinue shuffles a step closer to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He almost misses what happens from behind Ignis, but Noctis can piece things together from what he can see. The heavy sound of meat and scales slamming into metal is followed very closely by the sound of metal slamming into wood. He watches the diseased man’s back hit the tree, watches as he lets go of his lance and collapses to the earth in another heap. He lands like a sack of bricks, and Noctis winces. Prompto shudders at the same time. Well, if the man wasn’t dead before, it’s likely he’s dead now. And with that said and done, the Naga turns to face them. Dread shoots up his spine again, but he steels himself. They’ve fought off meaner daemons than this, and there’s only one Naga. He tells himself that they’ll be fine. Fighting off a Naga will be a piece of cake compared to a cluster of Iron Giants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The daemon lunges for them, mouth wide open and a shriek ripping from its throat. Ignis cuts the attack off with a well thrown All-Cast. Fire, lightning, and ice explode on the beast’s upper lip and tongue and it recoils. Noctis scatters in time with the rest of them, running to one side of the beast while Ignis keeps it distracted with his All-Cast. Gunshots ring through the air, bright flashes of the muzzle fire casting a strange light that dances uncomfortably on the Naga’s scales. The daemon shrieks and whirls towards him. While it has its back turned to him, Gladio slashes at its tail. His blade easily cracks scales, and where the scales are the thinnest his blade cuts through them. The reek of scourge punctuates the daemon’s cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Determined to do his part, Noctis throws his Engine Blade at the Naga. A stream of blue magic trails the blade’s arc, and Noctis follows it in a warp. His hand wraps around the hilt as the blade sinks deep into the Naga’s flesh somewhere high on its side, and while it's a satisfying feeling, it’s also a feeling that leaves his gut doing somersaults. The Naga screams in pain and writhes. Noctis clings to his blade as the daemon squirms and bucks in its desperate attempt to throw him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ignis!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tickle of relief strikes him when, seconds later, Ignis appears next to him, clinging to the lance he’s thrown and lodged into the Naga’s stomach. Though they’ve fought together many times before, it’s still a relief knowing his friends know just what he’s thinking in the middle of battle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the sound of a grunt and metal crushing and cutting through scales, the body of the Naga seems to jerk and lurch forwards. Ignis is quick to push off the Naga’s stomach and release his lance back into the Armiger, and Noctis isn’t far behind. Gladio’s handiwork has the Naga collapsing on the ground with a hateful, pained shriek. Another gunshot rings through the trees, this one sounding far tinnier than the last few. The bullet explodes in an impressive show of light, blindingly white and sudden enough to burn splotches of colour in the backs of Noctis’ eyes. The blinding light doesn’t last too long, but it’s more than enough to get the Naga to recoil backwards, howling in pain and swinging its head from side to side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noct!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noctis swings his own head to look over at where Ignis is standing, daggers in hand. One of them Ignis holds up towards him, and he ignites it with a burst of blue magic. Noctis knows what Ignis means by the now magicked dagger alone, and though he’s uncertain of their target staying still long enough, he trusts at the very least the Ignis has seen a weak point that he can’t. Noctis nods at him, and Ignis gives a quick nod in response. Ignis turns back to the Naga, and Noctis does the same. The daemon is still blinded by the flash of light Prompto had shot at it, and Gladio runs around the daemon, swiping at the creature’s scales with his greatsword. The Naga hisses and snaps at Gladio, missing him narrowly each time the man draws back and away from it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noctis watches, body tense and alight with anticipation, as the Naga turns to follow Gladio. Its tail lashes and its body writhes. Each time the daemon snaps its jaws shut with a loud clack, Noctis feels his hands twitch. Each time Gladio dodges, somehow managing to avoid the Naga’s fangs. It’s still far too close for Noctis’ liking. When the Naga turns away from them entirely, Ignis throws his dagger. Blue magic trails behind the arc of the dagger, glowing bright in the darkness of the night. The dagger sinks into the flesh of the Naga’s neck, right at the base of the skull, just a little bit off of the daemon’s spine. The daemon screams and arches up and backwards. Noctis doesn’t give it the time to do more than that. Once more he hurls his Engine Blade and chases it in a warp. The feeling of striking his target head on after a warp is still satisfying, but it isn’t quite deep enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noctis dangles from the hilt of his blade, wedged between the base of its skull and its neck, and he clings to it desperately while it shakes and bucks. There’s a yelp that sounds suspiciously like Prompto and a shout that sounds a lot like Ignis, but Noctis can’t focus on it. It takes all his concentration to stay wedged in the back of the Naga. He’ll just have to trust that Ignis and Prompto are all right down there, wherever they are. It’s hard to keep his bearings while the daemon thrashes him around like a ragdoll.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noct! Look out!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gladio’s shout is all the warning he gets. Noctis lets go of the hilt of his Engine Blade, and just in time it seems. As he falls, the massive length of Gladio’s greatsword pierces the spot he had just been hanging from. The blade sinks so smoothly and so far into the Naga’s flesh that Noctis rolls his eyes. Of course Gladio would strike the deciding shot. It would be just like that musclehead to land a shot so show-offy and perfect. Noctis hits the ground with relative ease, and scrambles to get out of the way as the body of the Naga comes crashing down to the ground. By the time it hits the ground it’s dead, lifeless save for the slight twitching of its tongue and the tip of its tail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good work, princess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gladio’s heavy hand thumps him on the shoulder, and Noctis looks away, shrugging the other’s hand away. All he can offer is a shrug and a complaint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You almost chopped me in half.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but I didn’t.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could stop him, Gladio had his arm around his neck and his fist digging into his scalp. Noctis absolutely does not whine when his hair is messed up even more than it was thanks to the battle. Totally does not whine. Not at all. He shoves at Gladio’s hands, and this time he relents, releasing Noctis when prompted. Noctis immediately runs his hands through his hair, doing his best to pull tangles loose and to set everything back in place. The effort is half assed, and soon enough he drops the attempt all together. He’s way too tired to give a shit about how bad his hair looks right now. He’s even too tired to care all too much when Gladio snakes a hand into his hair and ruffles it. The bigger man snorts when he draws away, and all Noctis can do is sigh and shake out his hair. It’s messy, and his hair doesn’t look that much better than before, but it’ll have to do until he’s gotten as much sleep as he can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Gladio wanders off, Noctis watches him. The Shield approaches Ignis, who’s knelt down by the tree the diseased man had been thrown into by the Naga. Curiosity piqued, but unwilling to admit it, Noctis trudges just a little bit closer, close enough to peer around Ignis. The diseased man is gone, probably dissolved into motes of Starscourge while they were fighting the Naga. But Ignis stares at the spot intently, eyes hidden behind his glasses and one hand supporting his chin. Something about the intensity in his eyes is unsettling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Iggy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right... “ Ignis says. His voice is hesitant, like he’s uneasy but refusing to outright admit that something has thrown him off balance. Noctis ignores it as best he can. His attention is stolen away a moment later anyways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto yelps something, something about the frogs. All three of them turn towards Prompto’s voice. The light of their torches illuminates the man, scrambling about, covered in filth and debris, chasing a flash of red. The frog bucket is on its side, the lid popped right off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three of them scramble after him, chasing the red of each frog that’s escaped. Thankfully they’ve caught only five to begin with, and Noctis, though exhausted as he is, totes two of them back to the frog bucket, with the other three carrying only one. The frogs are placed back into their bucket, and the lid snapped back into place. Noctis sighs and checks his phone for the time. Three-oh-two in the morning. They’re maybe halfway back to the Chocobo Post, and they’ve already stayed out longer than it was supposed to take them to hike back. Stupid daemons. Stupid Naga.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready to go, Noct?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noctis isn’t quick enough to cover his nose, nor is he quick enough to back away a few steps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t come near me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You stink!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prompto raises an arm and turns his nose to his armpit, sniffing audibly at himself. It’s nearly instant how fast he turns away again and gags, lowering his arm and pinching his nose shut. Noctis can hear Gladio laughing nearby, and Ignis chuckling only a little softer beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like you were in deep shit, Prompto.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw man! So not funny, Igs! I think it's in my hair!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s kinda funny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, not you too Noct!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noctis manages a laugh, tired yet joyful, while he watches Prompto dance around, trying to brush away the monster waste without actually touching it. It definitely doesn’t work. They spare a few moments to catch their breath and laugh at Prompto’s expense, and it isn’t long after that they’re ready to keep going. Gladio takes the lead, hefting the frog bucket as he goes. Prompto falls into line behind him, though at a slightly farther distance than usual at Gladio’s request. Noctis moves to follow, but hesitates when he catches sight of Ignis. Ignis stands there, near the tree the diseased man had died upon, staring down at the earth where he had once lain. Something about it makes Noctis’ stomach twist and turn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ignis?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks up almost instantly, and it’s the split second hesitation that makes his stomach twist tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right behind you, Your Highness."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>